


a monster among the sheep

by projectml



Series: Project: Bastille Day 2016 [5]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, original characters as ladybug and chatnoir, project bastille day 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectml/pseuds/projectml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fifth Bastille AU for Project: Bastille Day 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a monster among the sheep

Red and purple  _ run, run, run _ like they always do now.  Together they hide, fearing for their lives as they try to survive. Death trails behind them, whispering in their ears that time will catch up and their blood will soak the ground like their brothers and sisters before them. 

Coccinelle doesn’t stop moving,  _ can’t _ stop moving forward with her Maestro at side, her Miguel being exactly where he needs to be. Aloyse takes solace in that, if she falls, his wings will catch her and bring her to safety. For that is what he does, that is what they do, together as they run towards a future that is tainted red, white, and blue.

Echoes of a revolution ring in the Parisian air, the poor man winning and bourgeois kneeling, their heads pressed to ground and a blade clearing through their necks. Ghosts haunt the streets of Paris, their long gone bodies still lying where they landed, with no one to properly mourn them. 

Blood outlines Aloyse’s beloved city, dark red and crusty from a year old as she and Maestro make their way up to the prison. Only the moon shines down, tinged red too on the eve of the anniversary when hell opened it’s mouth and swallowed Paris whole. Gray eyes like the world she sees, colored grey, painted dull inspect the imposing structure before her, the red gleam of her armor too much like bright red blood in memories she wants to forget. 

Maestro tightened his grip on her hand, his hold far from gentle butterfly wings. “It’s going to be okay.” 

Wordlessly, she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as they scale up the building, their footfalls quiet as they grapple the stone. It’s easy as one, two, three as they hop over a low bearing wall and survey the grounds. 

“My contact said my parents are in the south hall,” she says simply, the red ribbon in her blonde hair flittering in the breeze. 

Maestro groans, throwing his head back and whines. “So, on the opposite side?” 

She peers over at him, grey eyes annoyed as brown ones blink bright. “Yes.” 

And it’s like that, off they go,  _ run, run, running _ as they always do that they stealthy cross the building, bodies pressed to disgusting brick when needed. They don’t hesitant to crouch low and crawl either, next to the rats and scrapes and decay. 

Luck is on their side though when they turn the corner and like finding sacred treasure, golden hair shines bright in the torch light. 

“There they are!” Coccinelle whispers, her heart swelling because her parents are  _ alive. _

Maestro’s hand is at her back, warm as he guides her while looking over his shoulder. “Who? The nice guards who are going to spare us?” 

The resounding  _ twack _ he gets for his humor makes him chuckle. “Yes, yes. Your parents, you vicious girl.”

Her mother sees her first, lifts her head weakly, eyes tired, and body starved.  _ She looks so hollow _ , Aloyse thinks,  _ skin,bones and a corpse all rolled into one _ . But she’s alive, she’s breathing, and she’s smiles when she sees her daughter, red suit and blonde hair and coming at the final hour. 

“Aloyse, is that you?” her mother asks, happiness spilling from her heart, her eyes. 

Coccinelle falls to her knees in front of the cell, her hands instantly touching her mother’s think face to remind herself that she’s real. “Yes, mama. It’s me,” she tells her, her voice thick, her heart thicker. “Now  _ shhh _ . We’re here to save you.” 

“My daughter!” her father then shouts, relief streaming down his face as he springs to life from his spot in the corner, seeming to have moved for the first time in months. 

Coccinelle’s hand touches what’s left of her father’s hair and holds back a sob. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to come back.” 

“It’s okay, my dear,” her father whispers, pressing kisses to her fingers. “It’s okay. You’re here now.” 

At her side, Maestro nudges her. “M i dama bella ,” he says. “Saving now, reunion later, no?” 

She nods and breathes deep, her world outlined for something other than red for once. Yellow peeks through from the flames as she procures lockpicks from her satchel.  Hunching in front of the cell, she holds the spare in her mouth and listens intently for a click. 

“Is there a day you’ll stop being astounding?” Maestro says loftily, his voice warm as she does her work. 

On instinct, she replies. “Of course not.” 

He goes to laugh, to tease her again, when a voice from the past travels down the hall, drenched in death and soaked with blood. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

The picks clatter as Coccinelle spins around, the tip of her braid hitting the rusty bars as she stares up at Chat Noir--no, not  _ Chat Noir _ , but Faucheuse. 

He’s all black, from head to toe. His hat, his cape, his boots. His red hair crackles and his blue eyes chill her to the bone as he stares at her, his mouth in a firm thin line of a scowl. His arms rest easy at his side, his claws gleaming in the light and she fights the urge to step back. 

“Just let us go and I won’t have to do anything,” she threatens.

“You?” he points a sharp finger her way. “Because to me it seems you’re releasing prisoners...what’s your name again?” he pauses. “Oh yes,  _ Coccinelle _ .”

She opens her mouth, to speak, but he talks over her. 

“And that is against the law,” he purrs with satisfaction, his scowl turning smug as he smirks.

But Coccinelle doesn’t back down, she stands tall, stands firm as her eyes storm. “René, you know damn well that these are my parents and they don't belong here!” 

He takes a step forward and every fiber of her being is telling her take a step backwards. 

“Parents or not, they’re still nobles,” he states. “Just.” Step. “Like.” Another. “You.” And then he’s standing right in front of her, only an arm’s reach away. 

Aloyse’s heart beats frantic in her chest, but unlike the time when they were children, when her cheeks would blush pink and he would smile like she was starlight, her knees don’t go weak. Ice shoots through her veins, swims through them, through her and so desperately wishes there was a way to turn back time.

But.

There’s not. 

So, she stands even straighter, her hand flying to the hilt of sword and she bites out her words. “Lowly nobles who were good to our people,” she snarls. “We helped them, we helped you!” 

The air around them is charged, thunder almost banging it seems when he looms over her. “Nobles who enslaved this country! People who made it bleed! Who killed--” 

“No!” she yells, half a scream, half a bellow. Her vision is red, her heart is in her ears, and the world is tilting as her eyes glance down at the claws at his fingertips. 

“No,” she repeats again, her voice calm like the moment before a storm hits at sea. “No, you did. You killed them That’s what you did to them and that’s what you’re doing to Plagg.” 

_ “Do not say his name,” _ he hisses, teeth bared like fangs.

“I saw you,” she says lower this time, rough as if uncut steel. “That day--those people.”

And memories of a time that refuses to be forgotten flashes before her eyes. Death sowing destruction with  his hand,  _ running, running, running _ like she always does, and dissolves a hundred people in one swoop. Red blending into the soil. 

Red like her suit, red like her blood, red like her flag that raised high above the city she loved. 

Red, red, red--

“I did what I needed to do,” Faucheuse says simply, no emotion, just fact.

She shakes her head, her eyes screwed shut, his voice still the same, his face still the same--

\--the love she has buried in her heart--

\--still the same. 

“Aloyse--” he breathes her name,  _ still the same _ .

Maestro moves forward and presses into her side and the world moves forward as it always does. 

“Need? What you needed to do?” he jests, anger laced in every word, in every movement as grins madly. “Killing defenseless men, women, and children was just a  _ need _ ?”

Faucheuse’s eyes go wide, his mouth twisted with tension. “What do you know about it?” 

“I know enough. We’ve heard about you down in Spain.” He juts a finger in the other man’s direction. “You’re the reason the world is out of order,” he accuses. “You’re the reason we’re  _ all _ out of order!” 

René, Chat Noir, Faucheuse doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, his body frozen as Miguel continues to talk. 

Fire is dripping from his words. “You’ve ruined us all, Chat Noir. Me, Coccinelle, Volpina, and the others,” he yells, his hands fisted at his sides. “With your selfishness, your anger--”

Aloyse holds his hand, tugs him towards her so she can focus on the purple of his mask. “Miguel--”

But Miguel shakes his head, uneasy, unrelenting. “No, Aloyse. He needs to understand--” 

“Understand this!” Faucheuse shouts, his claw coming between them, forcing Coccinelle and Maestro apart. 

Luckily, they both dodge in time, quick on their feet, mirror images of  each other as they land, as if they were totally in sync. 

“René! Stop it, stop this!” 

He shakes his head, his eyes wild. “No, no, no,” he tells her, his claws rearing backwards in a strike. “You’re the enemy now! You wanted this!” 

Metal clashes when his claws hit her sword, sparks flying as she’s being pushed down. “I wanted peace! I wanted freedom!” 

“Then you should have fought with me!” 

This time, Maestro splits them apart, two guards rushing Faucheuse and pinning him to the ground under the Spaniard's control.

Standing over him, Miguel steps on René’s chest. “You shouldn’t have fought at all, you stupid idiot,” he whispers, his eyes full of pity as René struggles under him.

Edging closer, Aloyse stands with her partner, her solidary clear in her choice. “We’re not supposed to pick sides with wars…” she tells him earnestly. “Think of what you’ve done to Plagg…” 

_ “Stop. Saying. His. Name. _ ”

The more he tries to fight it, the more pressure Miguel puts down. 

In her heart, Aloyse is hopeful, is gentle, is sweet. “Think of your kwami, my friend.” 

Faucheuse spits. “All I can think of is giving  _ these _ monsters the fate they deserve.” 

It’s hard to look at René, Aloyse realizes and her soul cracks, splintering like glass. He’s dressed as Faucheuse and darkness slicks his soul. It’s hard to forget the memories of stolen moments, when he would kiss her, and whisper poetry in her ear. 

And now, in this prison that he’s made his home, her voice wavers, full of emotion of things she doesn’t want. “But look at you, my Chat Noir. We’re the ones who fight monsters...and that’s what you’ve become…” 

In the distance, the clock tolls as René lets the seconds stretch as if he was walking along La Seine. His eyes flicker back between her and Miguel and he licks his lips with determination. 

“So I am,” he says, his palm now covered destruction and reaches forward to grab Maestro’s leg. 

At one minute past midnight on the first anniversary of Bastille Day, the morning begins with red, red, red and screams of terror as the world spins into chaos once again.  

**Author's Note:**

> AU Created by miraculousturtle and soundofez of Tumblr.
> 
> Written by miraculousturtle
> 
> http://miraculousturtle.tumblr.com  
> http://soundofez.tumblr.com


End file.
